


to heal, not fix

by Anonymous



Series: Anon's Indulgent Dsmp Fics [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, Crying, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Past Relationship(s), Permanent Injury, Phil is only mentioned briefly, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Pining, Scars, Soft Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Threats of Violence, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Techno grabbed his cape and headed out, only to find someone blocking the door.Him.Almost immediately, the cold metal of a sword was pressed to his neck, the hand bearing it shaking near uncontrollably. All the tension and anxiety that coursed through Techno’s body faded into a bittersweet fondness; even with the most power hungry eyes framed by the most radiant faces, Quackity couldn’t help but feel fear.--------------------------------------techno cares about quackity too much, quackity doesn't know what he's feeling, and both have baggage to resolvethis is self-indulgent quacknoblade so buckle up
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Anon's Indulgent Dsmp Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171688
Comments: 21
Kudos: 448
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> greetings!
> 
> apologies if they're a little ooc, i tried my best
> 
> \-----------
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do NOT ship the content creators themselves I am only shipping their their characters. I do not condone shipping real people together.

Important. 

**He** was so important, and yet, Techno made it a goal to stay as far away from him as possible.

He  _ hurt _ people, most of all  **him** , so why would he get close? It would only hurt them both in the end. He couldn’t and  _ shouldn’t _ try and indulge himself this time - he could not make the shots.

It was dark outside, and Techno was alone.

Alone enough to ponder, to start drifting. His thoughts were acting up, nearly as loud as the voices, whispering inane sayings and phrases. He thought about how, perhaps, he could hold **him** , hug **him** , tell **him** everything was okay - apologize for everything he’s ever done. Techno wanted to give him everything he deserved.

Even if what  **he** deserved was so much more than himself.

When he looked up back at the window, it was morning, the sun beaming brightly into his face with no remorse, no promise of a new day, a new start - just a promise of forever unchanging ways, continuing to relentlessly bear down on him.

Techno grabbed his cape and headed out, only to find someone blocking the door.

**Him** .

Almost immediately, the cold metal of a sword was pressed to his neck, the hand bearing it shaking near uncontrollably. All the tension and anxiety that coursed through Techno’s body faded into a bittersweet fondness; even with the most power hungry eyes framed by the most radiant faces, Quackity couldn’t help but feel fear.

He hesitated, second-guessing his moves, his tactics, his approaches. His heart was frail despite his rigid stance, his emotions were loose despite his even expression, his faith in others was too full despite the number of times he’d been dropped and cracked and  _ shattered _ by them all.

It was stupid, it was  _ foolish _ , it was positively  _ intoxicating _ \- god did Techno want  **him** to trust him.

Not a word was uttered for a moment before the blade pressed ever so closer to the skin of his throat, a line of crimson touching the pale expanse of his throat.

“You  _ fucker _ ,” Quackity hissed, his breath heavy and his eyes blazing, a fiery anger and determination Techno had seen only once before.

Like a coward, Techno averted his gaze, shivering at the cold reminder of the ill-timed fate of Quackity’s death - a sharp blow to the face, forever damaging his complexion, and whatever hopes Techno had of fixing their relationship.

He let himself quickly sneak a glance at the ugly scar drawn from Quackity’s chin to his eye, the voices making themselves louder at the presence of the wound. He was half tempted to bring his hand up, to gently smooth his thumb over it, to try and convince Quackity the scar had no value on his worth.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he listened patiently, feigning boredom as he watched the other with a blank expression. “What are you doing here, Quackity?”

Techno knew, of course he did - Quackity was a simple person with simple goals and a more than complicated past, he wanted revenge, he wanted to get  _ back _ \- like Techno  _ owed _ him something. There was something about the way he stood, however, that gave the impression that, perhaps, Quackity was starting to falter.

With a slow hand, Techno wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword, curling over Quackity’s cold, steadily trembling hands. He ignored the flare of heat that ignited at the contact and focused on controlling his grip, making sure it wasn’t too tight, nor too loose.

As expected, Quackity tried to push or to pull the afronting weapon away from Techno’s person, but the latter stayed steady, keeping the sword in place, his muscles bunching up in concentration.

He winced - mostly out of surprise - when Quackity threw a punch with his free hand, trying to weaken the grasp on his sword. It took the man 10 tries before he realized it was futile. 

Techno reached over to pin the other hand still, but was kicked promptly before, the motion getting a soft chuff out of him at the abruptness of it. When he looked down, he caught the desperation that started to sink in on Quackity’s face.

He shouted, he punched, he clawed, he kicked,  _ he bit _ , and Techno stayed still, enduring the barrage of assaults.

It hurt to watch Quackity going through an inane cycle of grief, as if being in Techno’s presence brought him down to the lowest of lows.

It was all the more reason for Techno to stay away.

There was a frustrated yell that snapped him out of his stupor and he looked down, watching as Quackity gasped for air, as if he had just ran a marathon. His shoulders were bunched up, yet his posture was sunken, wings shaking beside his frame. Only when Techno caught the stray sniffle did he realize Quackity was  _ crying _ .

It was loud, brazen, crying. Raw enough to tear Techno from his concentrated calm, his fingers loosening just a little bit as Quackity struggled to keep himself up.

“YOU BASTARD!” he screamed, using his offhand to hit Techno’s chest with an unsurprising amount of weakness.

“Let me go, let me go right  _ fucking _ now,” Quackity growled, looking up long enough for Techno to take in the disheveled mess of a man in front of him.

Tears cascaded down his face, his expression bunched up like wires were pulling him taut. He let out a sob and hunched back over, banging his head onto Techno’s body with another loud cry.

Fueled by the sheer shock and  _ hurt _ Techno felt watching this scene unfold, he dropped his hand, vaguely registering the dull ‘clunk’ of the sword hitting the snow.

He held his hands out quickly as Quackity’s body limped, almost falling without the support of the sword, but suddenly, the man surged, fists bunching up in Techno’s tunic.

“WHY WON’T YOU FIGHT ME?!” he yelled, his face mere inches away from Techno’s.

“FIGHT ME GODDAMMIT!”

Everything in Quackity’s body screamed ‘hurt me, kill me, make me  _ feel _ the pain’, and Techno couldn’t stop the pity that crept onto his face.

How long had Quackity gone on convinced he deserved to feel this sort of misery?

And though he could feel the heavy breaths being exhaled against his cheek and he could feel the fury smoldering behind those beautiful eyes, but still, he carefully brought his hands around Quackity’s wrists, pulling his fingers away from the now creased fabric of his shirt.

There was a picture of dull shock that seemed to be frozen on Quackity’s face, almost like he watched the whole world shatter before his eyes, everything he’d ever known, destroyed.

And perhaps it  _ was _ like that. 

The tears started flowing again, more earnestly this time. He wretched a hand away from Techno’s grasp and drew his hood over his eyes, pulling it down furiously to cover his tears, to cover his shame, his  _ humanity _ .

Techno did the only thing he thought he could do.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Quackity, pulling him closer and resting his chin on the top of his head, embracing him as wholeheartedly as he could muster.

All was silent except for the muffled noises of anguished cries and whimpers.

When it slowly stopped - and Quackity made no move to push Techno away - the taller cleared his throat, quietly, calmly.

“I’m sorry.”

And while he said it in true earnesty, he knew it meant next to nothing to the man tucked away in his arms. How could it be when Techno killed Quackity’s dreams, hopes, relationships,  _ life? _ All that could be repaid was a simple apology.

A small shaking erupted from the figure below him, and Techno feared he made the situation worse, but then, a sound broke out.

A laugh.

It was unhinged and rapturous, overtaking anything and everything with no means to stop. Techno gazed down in confusion, watching as Quackity slowly lost his marbles as he giggled nonsensically into his now soaked tunic. The noise was wet and mingled with the sobs that had made their way out earlier, the situation confuzzling Technoblade even moreso.

When it died down, he looked up at Techno, eyes glittering from tears and face red from laughing.

“I fucking hate you.”

For all it was worth, Techno didn’t feel the slightest bit perturbed by the statement, huffing softly.

He felt another tug on his lapels by an insistent hand and he prepared himself for another beating-

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he felt lips smash into his, warmth seeping into his body the minute he felt Quackity on him.

It was exhilarating, it was passionate, it was absolutely  _ horrifying _ .

Quackity pulled away before Techno could  _ push _ him away, the smaller looking wide-eyed.

There was another laugh - this one disbelieving and almost near as hysterical as the last bout - then Quackity thumped his head  _ hard _ into Techno’s chest, earning a wheeze.

“Why did I do that?” came a choked whisper, Quackity’s voice breaking in the last syllable.

Techno didn’t have an answer, and resorted to giving a soft pat in return, a sort of condolence, afterall, he himself had no idea what he was doing either, his head reeling from the soft embrace of Quackity’s kiss.

Considering all things, he was expecting the spectacle to be more  _ dramatic _ , memorable. Instead he was left feeling  _ slightly _ more exhilarated than usual, his heart beating quicker and his cheeks flushed with growing disbelief.

It took him a moment to remember the figure in his arms, currently still and silent. Techno thought for a moment, then slowly put a hand on  **his** head, giving it a soft pat.

As expected, Quackity stirred, looking up at Technoblade with confused eyes, his expression near unreadable; there were so many emotions playing out at the same time and they clashed in a flurry of bright light and dark ash. Quackity looked out of his area, confused, scared, tired - in his defense, Techno was too.

Even in his inexperience, the piglin wanted to comfort him, to show him it wasn’t too bad a thing, to be confused, and scared, and tired. 

“Why?” came the one uttered word from the man slumped below. Techno all but winced at the sullenness of his tone, the pure emptiness that accompanied his words.

Techno couldn’t answer that question either. But, he  _ did _ bring his calloused hands over to cup Quackity’s face, tilting him upward to meet  **his** gaze.

His eyes were dull, gone was the raging inferno that graced his features; Techno wanted  _ some _ of that anger back, something that was more than nothing. He continued to hold his gaze, however, his thumb doing what he pondered about doing since the beginning of their encounter: slowly brush his thumb over the lining of the jagged scar on Quackity’s face.

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a shuddering sigh. Quackity seemed conflicted, leaning into and yet, leaning as far away as he could from Techno’s palm. Obediently, Techno stayed still, letting the other do what he wanted with himself.

Quackity seemed to be at war with himself, gritting his teeth and scrunching up his face as he tried to decide what he wanted - if he wanted anything. But after a while passed, he slowly sunk into Techno’s hands, looking down as he tried to bury himself in them.

Another jolt of fondness swam through Techno’s body, his head dizzy with the given  _ trust _ he had just received. He let his thumb brush across his skin once more, giving a small chuff.

“Why are you so hard to hate?” Quackity asked, voice raspy.

As always, Techno didn’t have the answers he was looking for, and so he slowly leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the other’s forehead, trying his best to answer without knowing.

Quackity’s breath hitched and he sighed, sniffling a bit. He used his arms to reach up and grab the linings of Techno’s cape, wrapping them around himself. “Can we head inside?” he croaked.

Logically, Techno could see it was never a good idea to let your enemy reside anywhere  _ near  _ his house - he had learned after his incident with Tommy - but how could he deny Quackity at his lowest? At his most vulnerable? He wasn’t certain on how to pinpoint Quackity’s accuracy in acting, but he doubted their whole meltdown was a show; like he said, Quackity was a simple man with simple goals.

And so Techno stepped aside and let Quackity into the cabin, closing the door behind him before leading him up to the main room.

Surprisingly, Quackity made no move to touch anything, simply situating himself on the floor and curling up, back pressed against a chest.

Without a second thought, Techno unclasped his cloak, dropping it over the other’s shoulders. “Here,” he uttered quietly.

Another blur of emotions passed on Quackity’s face, but he kept the cloak wrapped around him, burying his nose into the fur.

It was quiet, near unbearably so. The voices had made themselves scarce, and whatever liveliness that filled his base was no longer present; there was only silence.

Technoblade wasn’t the best with words, or with people, and he juggled the options in his mind as he tried to resolve the tense quiet that spread across the house. He stumbled over to Quackity, sitting down beside him as casually as he could.

“Hey,” he said, a little awkwardly.

The statement warranted a laugh apparently and Quackity gave a little snort, laughing into his fist. “You’re so weird,” he said between soft wheezes, coughing a bit after his little fit.

Techno wasn’t sure what he did, but he was glad to see Quackity showing a little more of that brightness and energy he did so often (even if it was at the expense of Techno’s steadily crumbling dignity).

They settled back into silence and slowly, Techno felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned his head over, ear flicking as he saw the tired and soft expression of Quackity, leaning on his arm while blinking blearily. With the sun high in the sky and the vibrant, yellow rays framing  **his** face perfectly, Techno wanted to capture this moment and keep it preserved for as long as he could, taking in everything that was  _ Quackity _ .

Briefly, he wondered how he got here.

An hour ago he was held at sword point, being threatened by a perpetrator as intimidating as an alleycat. Now he was sharing warmth with said perpetrator, the man sleepily leaning on him with an unlimited amount of trust that  _ couldn’t _ be healthy to give up.

Techno wanted Quackity to take care of himself more than anything. The trust he was giving out was near addictive, something Techno would take in constantly and keep coming back to, but to watch as Quackity gave almost everything away only to get nothing in return  _ hurt _ .

But, Techno would never do that.

Techno wouldn’t take and give nothing back, he wouldn’t grab what he wanted and leave without a word, he wouldn’t treat Quackity as anything less than the person he was.

He wouldn’t, never.

“What was that out there?” Techno willed himself to ask, turning to Quackity with a serious, thoughtful expression, open to any answers he was going to get.

But Quackity seemed intent on pretending like nothing ever happened, turning his face the other way and staring down at his muddy boots.

“Nothing,” came his response. “None of that ever happened.”

Denial was something Techno was familiar with - they were a close friend, constantly looming behind him and creating a safe place from reality should he need it. Now they just seemed like a draining leech, slowly sapping out the life of a person and leaving a husk of an empty shell in its steed. Phil helped him resist giving in to false timelines and happy lies, but who helped Quackity? As far as Techno was concerned, Quackity had no one now.

“I’m not an expert at this,” Techno started out, a soft hum. “But I think you should come to terms with a few things before you can move on, Quackity.”

He didn’t miss the shiver the man made when his name fell from Techno’s lips; the thought made his cheeks flame.

“What’s the point?” grumbled the other, his voice half-muffled by the fabric of Techno’s shirt. He squirmed a bit, as if trying to get comfortable in this weird position of leaning.

Techno shrugged. “Maybe it’ll hurt less later.”

He left the line to sink in, dousing back into the comfortable silence that now fell onto them like a spray of nice rain rather than stifling, thick, snow.

Quackity started shifting again, moving closer and closer to Technoblade ever so slightly. The latter kept still, his ears the only thing that betrayed his emotions - his feelings on the matter before him.

Then, oh so abruptly, Quackity dropped himself onto Techno’s lap, seeming completely content with staying put in this new spot. He held his head up as if he was  _ entitled _ to this spot, and Techno couldn’t disagree with him there.

Quackity’s back pressed against his chest, Techno feeling the outline of his wings from beneath the cloak. He made himself as still as possible, keeping his posture perfect - near akin to a throne. Silently, he told himself ‘it's what he deserves’.

Quackity deserved much more.

The movement resumed once more and Technoblade was now met, face-to-face with the stunning thing in his lap, his eyes mischievous, and also open, wanting. He looked as if he had control of the situation, but his movements proved that he was just as uneasy and unsure as Techno was.

A hand rested on Techno’s forearm, simply laying there with no other intent or purpose. Such an innocent touch, and yet, Techno couldn’t stop his face from flushing, heat prickling at his cheeks and his ears.

Again he wondered how he got here, the thought almost vanishing with another hand rested on his shoulder.

Then Quackity leaned in, closer. Techno could near taste the breath on his skin, his gaze focused intensely on the dark irises staring back at him.

This wasn’t right.

Techno moved away, gently pushing the man in front of him back down, giving an uneasy laugh. 

“Slow down there,” he said, near mumbling. He looked away to avoid seeing the rather disappointed look that appeared for a second on Quackity’s face, before eventually fading into a sort of playful expression.

“Yeesh, you aren’t used to this, are you?” Quackity chirped, trying to laugh off the situation.

Denial again. 

Techno blanched in silent horror as he realized his unconscious actions. He was indulging - indulging  _ himself _ when Quackity wasn’t in the right mindset. 

He did the exact thing he told himself he wouldn’t do.

As quickly as he could, he got Quackity off his lap and stood up, brushing off his tunic. “So, uh-” he got out, heading over to a chest to busy himself with something -  _ anything _ . “You hungry?”

He handed Quackity a few gapples, careful not to hand over the enchanted ones by mistake in his haste. The fruit were accepted hastily, a confuzzled face accompanying them, but Quackity didn’t say anything, resorting to eating sulkily to relay his feelings.

Techno rubbed his face tiredly, sighing into his palms with his head turned upwards towards the ceiling. He blinked a couple of times and muttered random encouraging words to him - ones he’d hear Phil tell him on numerous occasions - before he faced Quackity once more.

“Look, Quackity,” he started off, his throat already beginning to seize up. “You’re... _ nice _ , a nice guy, and I’m sure many other people think so, but I don’t think...you’re right - you’re right, with me.”

It was choppy, it was awkward, and Techno was mortified, his face flushing further from embarrassment. 

He shook his head, replaying the encouraging words. “Wh-what I mean is, you’re not in the right mindset right now, I mean, you came to my house trying to  _ kill _ me and then you  _ kissed _ me - I mean, I don’t think people do that, y’know?”

Dammit, this was stupid,  _ he _ was stupid.

Thankfully, Quackity didn’t laugh, opting instead for a subdued look. He blinked up at Techno, swallowing the last of the apple in his hand.

“I know I’m fucked up Techno.”

Panic bubbled up in Techno’s chest like bile and he firmly shook his head. “No! No, you’re not fucked up Quackity-”

“It’s true - you were the one telling me to come to terms with things, right? Well I’m coming terms with the fact that I’m  _ fucked. Up.”  _ Quackity stood up, jaw set firmly. “I  _ know _ I’m broken Technoblade, you think I don’t know? I’ve known since Pogtopia, since Schlatt, since Dream, since  _ you! _ ”

“I’m messed up, I’ve hurt so many people and I’ve done so many  _ shitty _ things, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try and  _ fix _ it! I’ve  _ tried _ , Techno, and all I did was make things worse!” He bunched his fists up, chest heaving.

“So why bother? Why reopen old wounds when I can keep the bandage on?” he asked, anger and frustration gracing his features again. “Why be the broken Quackity when I can be the newly painted one?”

Techno bit his lip, stopping himself from reaching out again to comfort him. He kept his arm firmly by his waist. “If you thought that to be true you wouldn’t have come here today, would you?”

Quackity sneered, his scar twisting into an unsightly position. “I came here to  _ end _ the memory of that broken shell of me, Techno - I came here because you’re the  _ last _ thing I needed to get rid of me.”

“You’re the final reminder of that weak, pathetic, shattered  _ shit _ of a man that did  _ nothing for himself _ and got  _ nothing _ in return,” Quackity spat, his wings flaring out, as if trying to make himself bigger, more menacing.

Or to shield himself, give the illusion of confidence when he was uncertain.

Techno breathed in slowly, his ear flicking beside his face. “You’re damaged, but not broken.”

Quackity started a retort but Techno stopped him with a sharp gaze and a frown. “You’ve spent  _ so _ much time convincing yourself that you meant  _ nothing _ and that everyone sees you that way, and yet I see no proof of that anywhere, Quackity.”

“You’ve stuck yourself in this hole of despair and you  _ sit _ at the bottom, ignorantly ignoring the ladder right beside you because you believe you’re not deserving of the light.” Techno steadily made his way over to Quackity, crossing over to him with three long strides. “But I don’t see it that way, not when you’ve died for your country, fought for what you’ve believed in and protected your friends.”

“You’re  _ more _ than worthy of deserving the light, Quackity, and I think you need to see that first before you declare yourself the keeper of all miseries and the killer of past mistakes.”

Quackity looked down, almost ashamed of his actions. Techno knew, somewhere, deep down, Quackity still refuted his claims, but he seemed to be relenting to his words now, and that was a start.

He already predicted the man’s movements, stopping his leaning head with a hand and a sharp push back up.

“Go get some rest, Quackity, you need it,” he said earnestly, quirking a smallest and tenderest of smiles; he’d only ever reserve it for Quackity.

He pulled out a bed, settling it in the middle of the room and coaxing the frail companion into it, tucking him in before taking back his cloak.

Until a hand gripped the fabric tightly, pulling against him. “Let me keep it,” Quackity all but demanded.

At the end of the day, Technoblade still couldn’t deny him what he wanted, not with those eyes and his stupid earnesty.

He let Quackity grab a hold of a cloak and curl up in it before eventually falling asleep, looking more peaceful than he did all day.

Techno sighed and gently ran his fingers through the other’s hair, a sort of domestic adoration filling his chest, then shook his head. There was a time for pining, and now was not one of them.

He looked away before he could get lulled by the vision of Quackity resting peacefully and hurried out his door as silently as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not falling hard for me, huh?” Quackity teased breathlessly, jabbing playfully at Techno’s chest. 
> 
> “Of course not,” came the taller’s response. He didn’t avert his gaze this time, however, still enraptured by the beautiful picture before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck this took a bit to write
> 
> i am thoroughly tuckered out, i need to get some sleep
> 
> hope you enjoy! this was a joy to write!

A few days had passed and Quackity continued to reside in the cabin, tending to himself as best he could with Techno’s limited knowledge on self care.

He was half tempted to visit Phil - or have Phil visit him - to get advice, but he doubted his friend would approve of Quackity’s presence in his house. The man did almost kill him after all... _ twice _ . Not to mention he’d have to leave Quackity home alone, which he didn’t trust for  _ many _ reasons.

So he simply took a few notes out from his little self care journal, flipping through the pages every so often and relaying them back to Quackity.

He made sure the other ate properly, drank, got as much sleep as he could, and just overall entertained himself without having negative consequences to his actions. Technoblade didn’t invite Quackity in to become his little therapist but if that’s what he needed, Techno had no problems with giving.

However, there were always unexpected trials that Technoblade couldn’t foresee.

Today, for example, Techno woke up and was greeted with darkness surrounding him. He blinked blearily and looked at his clock; 2am.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He lept, sitting up as quickly as he could and holding his shoulders in a fighting position, muscles tensing up.

But he quickly relaxed once more as he saw Quackity beside him, wings fanned out in alarm.

“Sorry - sorry Quackity,” he mumbled, trying to reassure the frightened man. He held his arms out in a surrendered motion. “I thought you were an intruder or somethin’.”

He received a shake of the head in return, Quackity looking down at his feet with a strange and uncharacteristic silence. He shuffled his feet and tugged at the hem of his shirt before stepping closer to Techno, opting to sit on the side of his bed.

He looked frail, as if the night had taken a toll on him. He hoped Quackity didn’t take a nighttime walk and get attacked, but he doubted the guy would be  _ that _ bullheaded (at least, he hoped).

But then Techno caught notice of the dark circles beneath Quackity’s eyes and the way he seemed to shy away from the dark corners of the room, his eyes alert and haunted, like he’d, seen, something.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Techno asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at Quackity’s downcast face.

Though it was dark, there was the just perceptible movement of a nod that Techno caught and he nodded in agreement. He shifted a bit so they were sitting side-by-side, the blanket draped over both their shoulders. Quackity brought his knees up to his chest, blinking against his forearms while the soft glint of a torch across the room danced in his eyes.

Again, Techno had to shake himself out of his stupor and he cleared his throat, trying not to get distracted once more. “‘Do you wanna talk about it?”

Quackity promptly froze at the suggestion, and so Techno didn’t bring it up again.

That sat for a while, too little to talk about and too much emptiness to fill. Techno willed himself not to fall asleep, his body drifting off every so often. He tried not to think about how this little interruption was going to ruin his circadian rhythm and instead attuned himself to Quackity’s responses - if he made any at all.

The yearning had come back at full force tonight, and it was definitely not helping with Techno’s goal of ‘take care of Quackity, don’t indulge yourself’. 

Moonlight shone through the window, casting soft blues and whites into the black, shiny locks of Quackity’s hair, some of the light dusting his cheeks when he shifted. He looked contemplative, a side many never got to see, and it was so mesmerizing to watch such an impulsive man sit down and  _ think _ about something for once. Techno felt a bit guilty admiring Quackity for being calm and looking more reasonable, but it wasn’t as if Quackity’s impulsivity was any less attractive.

“You checkin’ me out?” came a sudden retort, causing Techno to jump slightly. 

He huffed and quickly turned away, realizing he was  _ staring dammit _ \- 

“I wasn’t, just...observing,” he countered weakly.

Quackity snorted back, a half smile quirking at his lips. “You know, I’ve got a feeling you’ve got it bad for me, that or I’m just  _ so _ pretty you just can’t take your eyes off me.”

Techno bit back the acknowledgement that Quackity was both and focused intently on the stray piece of thread coming loose on his trousers.

“Aw, you’re blushing-”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Techno shot back, his cheeks indeed burning a vibrant red. He pinched his brow in mild irritation, remembering to keep himself in control. “I’m guessing you’re feeling better now?” he asked, both trying to divert from the topic and genuinely curious as to how Quackity was holding himself up.

There was a sigh before Quackity hauled himself up, stretching a bit. “Guess I’m feeling better - I don’t feel like shit anymore, so, that’s good.”

“‘Okay’ and ‘good’ aren’t the same thing Quackity,” Techno said, looking up at him with the mildest bit of concern.

The shorter shrugged, wings giving a little jubilant flap, feathers fluttering out and onto the floor. “I’ll be fine, I’m probably bothering you anyways, just, uh - I’ll be fine,” he repeated, heading back down the ladder.

A little part of him wanted Quackity to stay, perhaps talk with him for the rest of the night - maybe just sit in content silence as they simply enjoyed each other’s company, watching as the night slowly turned to day; Techno would give a lot to see Quackity’s face lighted up by the sunrise.

But he would respect Quackity’s wishes and gave him a little wave as he descended. He flopped back down onto his bed once the other left, fixing the sheets fussily to get comfortable. His eyes were heavy but they refused to shut, leaving him to stare restlessly at the ceiling, sleep eluding him.

He grabbed his pillow and stuffed his face into it, nearly smothering himself with the fluffy object. He was a mess. 

“I’m a mess,” he repeated again out loud, the pillow slowly sliding off his face and onto the ground as he splayed his arms out across the bed. His head drifted over to one side, facing the hole where the ladder was, like a compass pointing north.

A tiny, hopeful part of him wished Quackity would pop his head back in, asking for a hug, maybe even cuddles - heck, Technoblade would opt for a shoulder pat - he just wanted to see  **him** .

But that was never going to happen. 

With enough will to crush even the most stubborn of people, Techno forced himself into a fitful sleep, waking up feeling completely unchanged - he felt tired, restless, and hungry.

He got out of bed as mechanically as he could, trying to force his tired brain to deal with the current activities he was trying to accomplish. He changed and headed down, careful not to be too clunky with his steps as not to wake the surely-asleep Quackity in the room.

Surprisingly, Quackity was not-so-surely-asleep. In fact, he was up and going, cooking something that smelled  _ heavenly _ .

With the drowsy fog that sat heavy in Techno’s head he stumbled over to the man, coming up behind him. He tried to say ‘what’cha makin’?’ but slurred out some vaguely coherent noises instead.

Quackity laughed that little trill of a giggle and turned around. “Just eggs,” he said, using a pan Techno didn’t even know he owned to flip the said eggs. He gave Techno another inquiring look and winced. “Yeesh, you look terrible, did you get any rest last night?”

No, no he didn’t, but he couldn’t tell Quackity that. He mumbled again and tried to keep his head up straight, but it bobbed lazily, and Techno leaned down to the only support he had, bumping his forehead against the back of Quackity’s beanie.

Another laugh erupted, the sound jostling Quackity’s shoulders and Techno’s head with it. He leaned into the soft fabric and the smell and feel of  _ Quackity _ . It was all too enticing. His hands hovered over the other’s hips, hands yearning to get a hold of the man in front of him. But alas, he relented, hands falling back to his sides.

“Alright you big baby,” Quackity grumbled halfheartedly, putting the now thoroughly burnt eggs onto a plate. He grabbed onto Techno’s sleeve and tugged him along as he moved them over to his bed, sitting down with a plate and a willing piglin in his hands.

“Here, eat something big guy,” he offered, giving the plate over.

Techno looked down at the morsel, eating it up rather ravenously. He ignored Quackity’s stifled chuckles and licked his plate clean, looking towards Quackity for more, if he could spare some.

“I’ll make more later - better yet,  _ you _ can learn how to cook them, don’t know how you lived off of golden apples this whole time,” Quackity said, digging into his own plate. He reached a hand up, fingers meeting the soft fuzz of Techno’s ear and scratching lightly behind it.

Techno thought he’d melt.

Living in the arctic by yourself, isolated from the rest of humanity and with only a few therapy animals to keep you company, Technoblade would say, and admit, he was quite touch-starved. So the feeling of Quackity’s slightly calloused fingers brushing against and scratching lightly behind his hog-like ears was almost like a gift from the gods, the feeling causing him to go shaky and gooey, like someone dipped him in hot wax.

He shuddered violently, leaning into the ever so thoughtful touch, soft, indiscernible piglin noises coming from his person.

The soft ministrations stopped for a second, and Techno could feel Quackity’s curious eyes on him, before the other put his plate onto his lap, freeing his other hand. He reached over, framing Techno’s face with his hands, the movement causing him to move closer to press into those slightly chilled palms.

The position was a little awkward, but the scratches continued, causing Techno to let out a low croon. Quackity let out a breathless laugh - a soft, sweet noise - and he slowly closed their distance.

Instead of doing what Techno thought he was going to do, Quackity pressed his forehead to his, resting there gently with his eye closed.

It wasn’t like any other types of affection he was used to, and yet, Techno felt himself succumbing to the ever-present love thrumming in every fiber of his being. His cheeks flushed as he pressed back.

Quackity gave a soft coo, relaxing his hold on Techno’s face and letting his hands fall onto Techno’s shoulders.

There was a small, lingering thought in the corner of his mind that told him how private this whole ordeal was - as far as Techno was concerned, Quackity was never this physically close and comfortable with someone else before, and being one of the only ones that Quackity could share this closeness with, Techno felt his face warm even more so.

Eventually, their skin left each other, and Techno was left fumbling, hands framed around nothing and his composure thoroughly wrecked.

“Not falling hard for me, huh?” Quackity teased breathlessly, jabbing playfully at Techno’s chest. 

“Of course not,” came the taller’s response. He didn’t avert his gaze this time, however, still enraptured by the beautiful picture before him.

Another snicker and a hand grabbed his lapels, pulling him close. Techno found himself leaning into the kiss that was inevitably going to happen, but at the last moment, Quackity diverted, pressing a chaste kiss onto his cheek instead.

Not a single coherent thought was able to run through Techno’s mind.

He faintly registered Quackity letting his shirt go, patting out the creases. “Don’t you have stuff to do big guy?”

The minx.

Techno cleared his throat rather loudly, his ear flicking softly as he raised a hand to cup his mouth, trying to hide his face. “Right,” he grunted out, standing up abruptly. He wobbled a bit, his legs feeling like jelly.

He knew there was a taunting glance sent his way and he fixed his jaw, willing himself to move and to stop embarrassing himself. “You’re - uh, going to stay here, right?”

Quackity rolled his eyes, looking terribly miserable about the situation. “Yeah, yeah, whatever - you know I’m not going to run off Techno,” he tried to reassure.

It took a bit, but Quackity was right, wasn’t he? The man had been here for a little more than a week now, and he made no move to escape or flee. What would be the harm of letting him outside? Especially after seeing how bored he seemed cooped up inside the house with nearly nothing to entertain himself with other than writing journal entries (Techno convinced him to write a thought diary, something to pour his feelings out into - something Quackity protested until Techno refused to stop nagging him about it) and the occasional doodle.

After a few minutes of trying to balance out the odds he sighed, turning back to Quackity and keeping his eyes firmly on the window. “Fine, but listen to what I tell you and don’t-”

“Don’t wander off, destroy anything, or do anything you wouldn’t do, yeah I know,” Quackity interrupted, looking unimpressed. He sat up and brought the dirty plates to the sink, then hurried over to his bed, taking out Techno’s cloak from underneath the blankets, draping it over his shoulders with a hurried motion. Then he bolted towards the doors, the wind making the cloak billow like a cape behind him.

A second later, Quackity screeched, heading back inside with a full-body shiver, shoulders quaking. 

“Fuck!” he cursed, holding the red fabric over his shoulders tightly over himself. “It’s so  _ cold _ outside!”

Techno couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, snickering beneath his fist. “We live in the arctic, Quackity,” he remarked lightly, not even realizing the weight of the word ‘we’ as he headed outside. “If you’re too cold, you’re good to stay in here.”

Despite how thoroughly affected by the cold, icy winds Quackity seemed, he stubbornly stepped back outside, still wrapped in the cloak like a burrito. “L-lead the way!” he said through chattering teeth.

Techno shook his head fondly, heading down the stairs with practiced steps and walked over to the side. He watched as Quackity walked - more like hop - down the stairs.

Then, he watched as Quackity stepped on an unfortunate patch of ice, slipping backwards with a loud shriek. Techno shot forward, catching him before his head could collide with the hard ground, one hand cradling the back of the man’s head.

As the adrenaline slowly eased away, Techno’s view cleared up, and he met Quackity’s shocked face. The other smiled in what he read as appreciation and then Quackity patted Techno’s cheek gently. “Thanks,” he huffed, his breath turning to a soft fog before dissipating.

Quackity twisted out of Techno’s grasp and hurriedly wrapped the cloak around himself again, giving a sheepish giggle.

Techno flicked an ear in return, the slightest bit irritated at the other’s carelessness and clumsiness. He shrugged it off, tried to ignore the now snow-soaked pieces of his clothes, and started leading Quackity over to his first task.

…

It was afternoon when they had finished, the freezing bite of the wind now replaced with the hot rays of sun, beaming down on them as they sat on the steps of the house, careful not to plant their hindquarters on semi-melting ice.

Quackity shed his tracksuit jacket, taking it off and tying it around his waist, but he kept Techno’s cloak on. With the heat, Techno rolled up his sleeves and tied his hair up, trying - and failing - to ignore the not-so sly glances Quackity kept stealing, his eyes darting to the nape of Techno’s neck.

Well, it wasn’t as if the taller was innocent either, every so often his eyes would dart to the skin of Quackity’s arms, something he rarely saw in such bare glory. They would linger, drinking up the expanse of skin like a nice cool glass of water on a sweltering summer day.

Then they would falter and Techno would remember his place and return his eyes to his lap, cheeks now heated less from the sun’s rays and more for other reasons.

“So, is that all we’re doin’ today? I could use some food,” Quackity said standing up with his hands on his hips. He looked childish with just a tank top and a long mantle, but somehow, he pulled it off.

Of course  _ Techno _ thought that.

Quackity didn’t seem to wait for an answer and headed up and back into the house, taking the cloak off and digging through some chests to grab himself a carrot, the culinary skills he exuded this morning seemingly tired out. “Wan’ one?”

“It's  _ my _ carrots, I don’t have to receive it from you,” Techno shot back as he walked through the threshold. Despite his coarse statement, he snatched the carrot in Quackity’s outstretched hand anyways, nibbling on it absentmindedly. 

“Just to be clear, we  _ are _ taking a break, right? My back’s been blown to shit,” Quackity remarked, arching said back and stretching it out, wincing a bit. “Wouldn’t mind if it was another reason, but you insisted no-”

“What?” Techno snapped, head swinging over to face Quackity. He nearly choked on his carrot but quickly re-situated quickly, not wanting to make a fool of himself again.

Quackity laughed anyways. “ _ Your face _ \- I mean,  _ ahem _ ,” he said, clearing his throat in mock-formality. “I meant to say,  _ King Technoblade, Ruler of Virgins and Puss-” _

“NAH-UP! Shut up Quackity!” Techno quickly halted him, palm stretched out over the other’s mouth with panicked flair; he did  _ not _ need to hear these things today.

Or any day for that matter.

Quackity snorted, a bout of giggles spouting out. “Yeah yeah, you dork.”

He lay down onto his bed, flopping his chest onto the cushions with a loud ‘thump’. His wings fanned out beside him, and it was then that Techno got a good look at his wings.

What most likely was once a full set of feathered wings, was now half of that, various feathers missing from various places in Quackity’s pinions.

Both were also scared at the base - from what Techno could see, at least between the wing stilts in Quackity’s shirt that Techno didn’t even  _ notice _ existed until just now - and it seemed to spread from the upper torso of his back to the rest of the spine.

It didn’t occur to him a few moments later that  _ he _ caused this horrible injury.

The day of the festival - a day where Techno had no ties to anyone or anything. He fulfilled the job Schlatt needed and completed his own agenda in the process, eliminating who he could and fleeing before anyone could begin to find him.

He was different back then, an idiot, a cruel killer, remorseless in his sprees. Many times Techno told himself he was different  _ now _ , and that’s what mattered, right? But every so often the past crept back up onto him - nightmares, the voices - hell, sometimes even just  _ seeing _ the people he’d hurt brought back the sharp reminders.

He’d gotten better at pretending they didn’t exist until Philza came and helped him face the truth - a few slaps of reason brought him back to reality and Techno slowly started to heal with the additional aide of word affirmation and a trusting, healthy relationship.

Facing the root of his problems helped, but it didn’t ward them off fully. Something about seeing the damage for himself really  _ did _ something to him, something...icky. On bad days Techno found he couldn’t even  _ look _ at Quackity, that scar trailing down the left side of his face forever a horrible reminder of Techno’s brutality.

“Something wrong Techno?” 

Quackity’s voice brought him out of his mental spiral, the man looking up from his limp pillow with a questioning glance.

Against better judgement, he uttered, “Your wings.”

A dawning realization appeared on Quackity’s face, but he seemed to be calm about it, his mouth forming a half smile that almost resembled-

Acceptance. 

“Yeah, they’re quite fucked up aren’t they?” he asked with a light tone. He reached behind him and threaded a finger between his fingers. 

“Aren’t you- you know,” Techno tried, gesturing vaguely. 

_ Aren’t you angry with me? Aren’t you miserable because of me?  _

“I’m not in pain if that’s what you’re wondering,” Quackity responded, flapping them a bit. “They kinda work like regular wings, you know? Just, uh - I can’t really,  _ fly _ anymore, because of - everything that happened.”

His dismissive tone faltered and he looked more uncomfortable, his smile more strained and his posture more tense.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Techno reassured hurriedly.

“No!” Quackity shot back, then blinked sheepishly. “I mean -  _ look _ , we can talk about it. I mean, you’re the one who said to come to terms with things, right? So it’ll hurt less later?”

Techno tried not to look surprised as he quietly settled onto the floor, a silent approval for Quackity’s proposal. Did he know? Did he know about Techno’s insecurities? Surely not. He wasn’t the most unreadable figure but he wasn’t the most expressive either; whatever he needed to keep private tabs on he kept private tabs on, lest people start poking and prodding where they didn’t need to.

But with those understanding eyes flashing at him, he felt read like a book, like someone found the locked latch to open up his pages and read every detail about him with care for his contents. It wasn’t like an obtrusive delve, more like a gentle absorbent of knowledge, the reader respectful with their handling.

“Any questions to start off with?” Quackity asked with uncharacteristic patience.

Techno swallowed thickly, ear twitching a bit under the scrutiny of the other’s gaze. “Did it hurt?”

“No shit,” was the response that came. It didn’t snap but was stated factly. “A lot of scorch marks were on my wings and I had to get rid of a lot of feathers so they could heal,” he said, his leg bouncing beside him anxiously. “They never grew back the same way.”

“And your back?” Techno asked.

“Same thing, my wings got the blunt of it, though.”

“Do you blame me?”

Silence. 

Techno didn’t notice how his breathing slackened, how he hunched just a little bit more. 

Quackity sat stone-faced for a while, eyes staring at nothing before he said, “Yes.”

Techno’s heart dropped in his chest, falling like a lead stone in the pit of his stomach. Where he was once warm he felt a chill spreading through him, overtaking him too quickly and stealing his breath away as well.

Then a hand rested on his shoulder, and another. He looked up as steadily as he could at the man in front of him, jolting back at the sight of the scar. Instead of wanting to glide his fingertips over it in admiration Techno wanted to hide it away, cover it up so he didn’t have to see where it all went downhill.

“Techno,” Quackity said in a stern voice. Technoblade couldn’t help but oblige to his silent command and turned to look at him.

“I blame you,  _ but _ ,” he explained slowly. “That doesn’t mean I don’t forgive you.”

“Why?”

Another pause.

“I was stupid, Technoblade. I thought if you killed people once, you’d forever be a ruthless killer, a criminal who needs to be brought down and put to justice,” he said harshly, the hands on Techno’s shoulders tightening. He froze, not daring himself to even breathe. 

“But, what kind of thinking is that? We’ve all killed people - we were in a  _ war! _ We’ve destroyed so many things, hurt so many others - all of us  _ fucked  _ up at  _ one _ point or another! If we were able to change our ways, if we were able to be redeemed, why couldn’t you?”

“And I’ve been thinking about that, why  _ didn’t _ I give you a chance? You tried to explain you changed your ways and I fucking threatened you, kidnapped you, and took you to L’Manburg to  _ execute you _ \- what kind of person does that make me? I was such a hypocritical bitch, ranting about how I was the good guy, while I fucking dropped an  _ anvil  _ on you and tried to murder you in cold blood!”

Techno watched as Quackity’s composure crumbled, his expression torn between regret and hysteria.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he resumed, taking in a deep breath. “I’m the last person who should be a judge of character. Whatever you did in the past isn’t  _ you _ anymore, and I’ve got to stop being a whiny little bitch about it and get over it. Yes, you’ve hurt me  _ badly _ , but you don’t praise yourself like some evil overlord, you’re - upset about it. At least, I think you are. You don’t seem to like the scars you gave me.”

Techno fervently nodded. He could never enjoy those permanent reminders of pain and suffering he had inflicted. Not to say Quackity wasn’t beautiful and brave for wearing them so proudly, but he didn’t  _ pride _ in knowing  _ he _ was the one to give him such trauma.

Quackity tilted his head down at Techno, arching a brow. “Do you get it now?”

“Yeah,” Techno whispered hoarsely back, his breathing evening out for now. The hand on his shoulder came up, gently brushing the hair that had fallen out of the piglin’s bun, blocking Techno’s view with stray wisps. His fingers then moved further back, cupping the nape of his neck and pressing their foreheads together once more.

“You did this to me and you hurt me, but I forgive you Technoblade,” Quackity whispered. He looked up briefly where their skin touched, meeting Techno’s eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

_ For what? _ Techno thought. Then he remembered the kidnapping encounter, the anvil nearly crushing him, the confrontation in the Final Control Room, the near death he experienced, bleeding out across the snow on his trek home.

The heartache he felt the minute he laid eyes on the loving Quackity before him, a stark difference between the war-hardened veteran with a bloodied apron and even bloodier agenda.

Countless nights of vague memories and sharp nightmares and Techno realized just how much he was affected - he hadn’t even noticed.

Quackity had, though. Quackity had.

Suddenly, he felt a thick burn at the back of his throat, then a hot stream of tears rolled down his cheeks, pushing a broken sob out of him.

Quackity slowly pulled away, cupping Techno’s cheeks and catching the tears with his thumb before they trailed off and hit the ground. He cooed and hushed gently, cradling Techno to his chest with a protective arm and a loving embrace.

“It’s alright,” he said, his tone light and fluffy, akin to a warm blanket. He sniffled quietly into Quackity’s top, trying not to be too gross about it, but he couldn’t stop the shuddering cries and sniffling nose.

Quackity didn’t seem to mind, however, hugging him through the whole ordeal. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he continued to murmur, whispering softhearted affirmations.

Techno didn’t know how much time had passed before he calmed down, but the sun was setting when he resurfaced, wiping his eyes roughly and sniffling a bit more. He tried to say something, but couldn’t get a word out so he simply resorted to a simple head nudge, a small thank you in the affectionate movement.

Quackity laughed then leaned forward, kissing his nose. “That was helpful, right?”

Techno rolled his eyes but did indeed nod in agreement, his cheeks forming a pout. 

He received a groan in return, Quackity flopping back onto the bed, dramatic as always. “God, stop being cute I might just kiss you,” he threatened with half-seriousness. Techno wasn’t sure whether to take the remark to heart, but he let himself hope, just a little.

…

Today was a bit too chilly for Techno’s liking. It was too frozen - less like the arctic and more like the north pole - and it was too still. The wind did not howl and the trees stayed still not a single peep, not a single form of life.

When Techno stepped outside, the snow wasn’t packed in, it was powder, so soft and so thin that the minute he put his full weight onto his foot he sunk in.

But snow never pulled in this deep.

Where his foot would have hit the ground, it sunk deeper, the snow slowly rising as he was dragged deeper and deeper, his chin barely making it over the top coat of snow. His hands tried to grab onto anything, but all his struggling did was rake into unpurchasable material. Frantically, he continued, trying desperately to save himself,  _ anything _ , but soon the soft powder started to burn into his skin, colder and sharper than any ice he’d ever felt before.

It felt like liquid nitrogen, the frigid burning racing up his arm as he cried out, hands reflexively pulling away from the immense pain.

Whatever resistance was keeping him up fell alongside his arms. Techno felt the air roaring by his ears, his hair fanned out above him as he fell, deeper and deeper, the bright light of the surface growing farther and farther away until it was nothing but a small blip in the sky, barely perceptible. 

There was nothing to catch him, and nothing to see. It was simply dark, like Techno fell into a bucket of black tar. He couldn’t see beyond himself, his hands and legs outstretched as he tried to catch onto  _ something _ that must surely exist.

Instead, he hit the ground.

The impact knocked all the wind of him, leaving his lungs a shriveled mess and his back most definitely bruised; he was surprised he didn’t break his spine upon hitting the ground, but then, he supposed, the ground wasn’t all too hard.

It was a rubbery texture, near bouncy if given enough air and patience. Techno wrestled himself to a sitting position, but felt something restraining him from doing so. He tried to pull his arm into a better spot to raise himself up, but his arm was stuck firmly into the ground, his struggling further making the limb encased into the now dangerously sticky material.

He tried not to panic, but as he watched his hand - and then arm - disappear into the gooey tar, he couldn’t help but struggle, his mind clouded with frantic uncertainty and spiraling fear. The darkness had encased both his arms how, some of it stretching over his chest while he continued his squirming.

Quickly it spread, even during periods where Techno momentarily stilled himself, it continued to grow, latching and pinning Techno down like stubborn, overgrown vines spiraling up an old, dilapidated building. He gasped as the tendrils crept up his face, threatening to cover his mouth. He told himself to breathe, to calm down, to stop hyperventilating, but he couldn’t. He let out one muffled cry as the dark overcame his face, shrouding him in cold, stifling, black.

Techno’s eyes shot open, breathing heavily. He sat up, lungs heaving and bile leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He looked around, seeing his bed, his house, his windows, his walls -  _ his _ reality. He was made aware of his soaked night clothes, sweat pouring off him. He threw the covers off despite the slight chill in the air and stumbled out of bed, going over to his washroom.

He looked at the mirror placed in the room, looking over his face and his eyes before groaning. He headed over to the small face cloth hanging by the wash bucket and he quickly dipped it in the clean water, wiping his face with it as vigorously as he could, his mind frazzled and his nerves split.

Another nightmare - just when he was getting better.

He looked at his reflection again, then regretted doing so, images of the blood god appearing in flashes in his mind. The voices were loud now, too loud to mean anything good. He couldn’t spiral, not with Quackity here, he  _ could not _ give in. He was  _ not _ past Technoblade, he did  _ not _ need blood - he really didn’t. He just wanted, some, sleep.

After gripping the mirror frame with a strength strong enough to slightly splinter it, Techno made his way back to his bed. He didn’t want to sleep in the soggy mess of sheets he’s left, but he didn’t want to wake up with back pain either.

With a begrudging sigh, he fixed his comforter and blankets over the mostly-wet linen and slept on the relatively dry sheets on top, trying to get back to sleep.

But the voices could not be drowned out into a little buzz in the back of his mind - no, they kept talking, their voices overlapping more and more, urging him to go out and find  **blood** , he - they -  _ he _ wanted  **blood, blood for the blood** **_god_ ** -

He let out a strangled shout, gripping the side of his head tightly. He clambered out of the bed once more, the action more so described as a tumble-to-the-ground. He covered his ears, trying to think of those distractions Phil would give him; think about stupid stone tower Tommy built, think about the turtle farm and the baby sea turtles -  _ fuck _ it wasn’t working. What were things that made him happy?

Quackity. 

He thought about Quackity’s voice, his laugh, his stupid jokes, his stupid confidence, his handsome face, his outspoken energy, his absolutely  _ radiant _ presence.

Slowly, the pressure of a thousand voices quieted down. Techno took a deep breath, filing and packing the last few murmurs into a little box in the farthest corner of his mind where it’ll stay for as long as he pleased. When the headache had gone, Techno let himself relax, slumping on his knees. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to the floor, hands bent and resting over his head, fingers interlocked. 

He didn’t think he’d be able to be alone tonight.

With reluctance, he stood up. It wasn’t the best idea, but Techno was  _ selfish _ . He could feel guilt about it later - right now, he needed only one thing, and perhaps, he could be provided.

One more glance at the ladder hole before he made his decision, promptly climbing down to the second floor.

Quackity was resting undisturbed in the room, one leg hanging off his bed. He snored moderately, looking more content and satiated thn Techno had seen him since their encounter. It made him smile fondly, the temptation to simply sit and watch Quackity exist without conflict just in reach - but he knew it was rather...unsettling to have someone watch you while you slept, so Techno quickly stopped himself from staring too long.

He hesitantly knelt beside the bedside, then quickly gave Quackity’s shoulder a gentle nudge.

A soft grumble, then a shift, then those brown eyes blinked up at him, sleep clouding over his features.

“Techno?” he slurred groggily. He made no move to sit up, seeming content with simply staring up at him. “Did somethin’ happ’n?”

“Can I... _ stay _ with you tonight?” 

It was delivered so openly vulnerable that Techno almost took it back. But Quackity didn’t delay, quickly scooting over to one side of the bed and patting the empty spot. 

“Well? C’mon you big baby, get in here!”

Techno couldn’t help but comply.

He slipped into the bed next to  _ Quackity _ and tried to relax. He separated himself from the other’s space, trying not to invade too much, but an arm was immediately thrown over his chest, the appendage curling near possessively around his torso.

“Loosen up,” mumbled the tired, precious figure next to him. He tucked his face into the crook of Techno’s neck, fully content to simply rest there, it seemed.

Despite Quackity’s demand, he stiffened, but then another hand came up and brushed over his hair and he sunk into the mattress alongside Quackity’s embrace.

He leaned further into the other, cheek resting against the man’s soft hair. 

“Goodnight,” Quackity said tiredly, yawning.

“G’night,” Techno breathed back, eyes closing moments after Quackity’s, his thoughts serene and his chest warm.

…

Morning was a lot less harsh to Techno this time.

He felt well rested and warmer than he’d ever been, his limbs numb in a purely relaxed way - Techno didn’t think he ever wanted to move again.

That’s when he remembered.

His eyes shot opened, eyes met a cheeky grin and a sly glint in the eyes.

“Morning hot stuff, how was your rest? Good? Yeah I thought so, no one joins Big Q in bed and comes out unsatisfied,” Quackity remarked, cackling at his own joke.

Techno ignored his heating cheeks and sighed, turning over - much to the dismay of his bed partner.

“Hey! Techno!” he heard from over his shoulder. There was a playful tug on his arm that gave a few determined tries to, unsuccessfully, turn Techno back over. “C’mon, I was just kidding!”

“It’s too early for this,” the piglin grumbled, earning a light-hearted jab to the arm.

“Shouldn’t have joined me in bed then,” chirped Quackity. “Speaking of which, I think I deserve a thank you.”

Techno snorted, rubbing his eyes. “For what?” he groused, thoroughly unamused.

“Obviously for the best sleep of your life,” came the remark, tone obvious. 

“Well  _ thank you _ Quackity,” Techno said sardonically, rolling his eyes.

“No no no, not  _ that _ kind of thank you,” continued the man, seemingly oblivious to the mocking tone. “I meant like, a little something something to remember you by.”

With a raised brow Techno slowly sat up. “Like?” he snorted.

He watched with wide eyes as Quackity surged forwards, his lips capturing Techno’s in a flurry of movement. Arms wrapped around his neck as Techno was pushed back by the abruptness of the motion, his brain still trying to catch up with what just happened. He felt the steady pressure of Quackity pressing against him, his arms encircling his shoulders like the biggest and best hug Techno had ever received.

The kiss was passionate, but unexpectedly gentle, soft and loving, something that made his heart swell uncontrollably. When Techno found his hands he brought them up and threaded them through Quackity’s messy, morning hair, the act itself almost as gratifying as the kiss.

When they broke apart, Techno couldn’t stop the utterly starstruck gaze he sent the other, his heart pounding uncontrollably and his face flushed to the heavens. Quackity smiled oh so warmly leaned in.

“Like that,” he huffed against Techno’s lips, looking breathless - almost sheepish.

Techno let out an indiscernible piglin squeal, quickly covering his mouth in embarrassment as Quackity laughed lightly at the sound. Techno wanted to throw himself off the bed, turning around onto his side and hiding his face. He tried to ignore the giggling apologies Quackity was spouting out but was coaxed back towards this  _ wonderful man _ by a simple caress, Quackity’s fingers brushing over his cheek.

“¿Estuvo bien mi corazón?” Quackity said, his face framed by the sun like a halo. If not for the ever present feeling of Quackity’s skin on his Techno would have thought he was dying. 

Another soft, quick kiss met his lips, and Techno felt all the air rush out of him, his pupils blown wide. Looking up at Quackity he couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’re beautiful.”

A laugh, then another kiss. “Could say the same about you, lover boy.”

Techno would let the man call him that as many times as he wanted if that meant he could stay in this moment forever.

“I love you,” he blurted out dumbly, eyes still fixated on Quackity like he was the moon - ever present, ever stunning in her beauty, ever compassionate to those under her light.

Quackity reddened, a goofy smile stretched out on his face. “God, if I knew all I had to do to get you to confess was to make out with you I would have done so sooner.”

This time, Techno leaned up and initiated the kiss, his hand meeting Quackity's, their fingers finding a place in between the other’s, fitting together near perfectly. 

“Te amo,” Quackity whispered against his lips, the sentence causing Techno to shiver.

Another kiss sealed them together. 

Perhaps this is what healing felt like: hopeful, happy, content, peaceful.

Techno could get used to this.


End file.
